


the eleventh year is steel

by deadlybride



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Gangbang, Jensen Ackles/OCs, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 07:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20041855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlybride/pseuds/deadlybride
Summary: Jensen's been harboring a fantasy for a long time; for their anniversary, Jared makes it happen for him.





	the eleventh year is steel

Jared formed the burger patties that morning, because Jensen's told him over and over again that meat's better when it rests. At the store he sprang for the good stuff—ground shortrib, ground chuck, 80/20. Just salt and pepper on the outside, a little worcestershire inside when he formed them, and he's been waiting what feels like a week to put these babies on the grill, but people are taking their damn time.

He leans against the kitchen island, gulps his beer. Decent IPA, but not his favorite. It's from Jensen's place, though, so it's practically free. Free's the best flavor, with cold following after—he can tolerate blah hops for that. He squints out the window, licks the corner of his mouth. Sunny day, a little breeze. The pool's clean and sparkling, distorted waves of light jumping from it to the ceiling in the kitchen. First days of summer, pretty and unspoiled, and he's got a solid four days off from the hospital, and Jensen—there's a yelp, from down the hall, and he fumbles for his phone in his pocket, flips to the video feed, and—oh, yeah, it's okay. Jensen's getting fucked again, on his back this time, and that was a good sound, a turned-on sound, so Jared just leans in on his elbows, beer forgotten. Watches, even if the little video's nothing like the real thing.

Hell of an anniversary present, if he does say so himself. It wasn't even that hard to arrange, although there's no way he's telling Jen that. He's going to be coasting on the credit for this one for _years_. Three guys, because more felt like too much to manage, and he knows all them decently well but they're not friends, not really. Jensen had met all of them, even. A meeting at a bar down on Rainey, a fire pit they bellied up to. "Padalecki?" Marcus said, behind them, and Jensen turned around before he did, frowning a little like he does whenever someone interrupts them. Marcus shook Jensen's hand, smiling easy, and then so did Will, and Eric. Guys from his gym, is how Jared introduced them, and that was true, although he didn't tell Jensen until later when they were in bed, with Jensen hogging the blankets like he always did, that he'd fucked around a little with Will years and years ago, and when Jensen turned around and stared at him he said, quiet, _what did you think? You liked them okay? _Jensen had, pretty well, and then there in the quiet, even though it was months away, Jared asked if Jensen wanted to know what his anniversary present was now.

Will's the one fucking Jensen, one thick thigh held up against his side and the other spread open on the bed. They're taking turns, drawing it out. The nanny cam's quality isn't going to win any awards here, but it's good enough to see that Jensen's head is tipped back on the bed, his hand holding Will's hip and dragging him in, not pushing him away. Jared breathes out slow through his mouth, thumbs the phone screen to black. Sips at his beer, hops bitter on the back of his tongue, and pushes upright, ignoring both his dick and the little lurch in his belly.

"Hey," he calls out, down the hall. "How you doing on beer?"

There's a laugh. Eric. "Dude, we always need more beer! Hook us up, man."

He hooks a cold six pack out of the fridge, heads down. They've got the blinds open to let the sunshine in, music playing just loud enough to cover Jensen's breathing, a grunge playlist Jared loves that Jensen pretends to roll his eyes at. When he comes into the living room Marcus is splayed out on the blanket-covered recliner, naked but for his socks, and Eric's standing behind the fold-out with his bare white ass on display, apparently watching the baseball muted on the TV. "Big Rangers fan, E-man?" Jared says, dry, and Eric shrugs, grinning. "Here, beer, you philistine."

"Ooh, philistine," Eric says, to Marcus, and Marcus huffs. He's fisting his dick, the pinkish dark head appearing randomly behind his slick hand. Eric snaps a beer off the plastic carrier and Jared takes one, too, leaves the other four on the coffee table they've moved out of the way, walks over and holds it out for Marcus to take if he wants.

He does, with his left hand, and pops it one-handed, too. "Rangers are up," he says, and then his mouth curls up at Jared's expression. "Nah, it's nothing. Just something so we won't give it up too quick, right, E? Makin' it good for your boy." A gurgled assent from behind the beer can. Marcus jerks his chin at the fold-out. "You want a turn?"

"Guests first," Jared says, shrugging, and Marcus shrugs back, making fun of him a little, but that's okay. Jared turns around, finally, fully, and really looks.

Will's giving it to Jensen, not hard but deep, holding him open, leaning into it. They're at an almost-diagonal on the fold-out bed, and Jared knows it's not the most comfortable spot in the world but that looks like maybe the farthest thing from Jensen's mind right now. The fan's going overhead but he's still sheened all over with sweat, his hair soaked darker brown. Pink, standing out at his shoulders, seeped down his chest, his face flushed, his eyes closed, and his mouth open as Will grinds in, and in. His free leg spasms, draws up, heel digging into the flimsy thin mattress, and Will leans into it, knows he's hitting that spot with that smug-ass expression on his face. "Yeah," Eric says, "you got it, right there," and Jensen turns his face to the side, eyes scrunching tighter like he's embarrassed but his dick's leaking all over his belly, and that's all Jared needs to know right now.

"Doing good, man," Jared says, to Will or to Jensen, doesn't matter, and Jensen hitches in a deep breath and groans, quiet and tight in his throat like always. They've only been going for half an hour. Plenty of time still to make him really moan. "Burgers in an hour?" he says, and Will nods, looks up at him, says, "Fuck yeah, man, I'm starving," like he's not balls-deep in Jared's husband, and Jared laughs for some reason, can't not. Okay, well. Burgers in an hour.

Three guys, and not ones Jensen might really run into, ever again, if he doesn't want to. Austin's got its gay scene, sure, but Jensen doesn't really hang out in it, and neither does Jared, much, anymore. Still, he never changed gyms, and he was doing his set on the free weights one day, thinking hard enough that the world was just a fuzz of the burn in his shoulders and Eddie Vedder's voice, when Will's face popped into view, with a wave, and he thought—well. Maybe that'd work. Will, and Marcus, and Eric. Easy enough for Jared to run their STD panels, at the hospital, and not really a surprise when they came back clean. Everyone Jared had played with in college was still too scarred by years of Texas _abstinence only or you'll die of crotch rot!_ sex-ed to fuck around that casually. All single-ish, all mature enough to know the score. This was a one-off, their lucky day, and nothing more.

Last night Jensen had taken a bath, like he did about once in a blue moon, and Jared had come in and sat on the side and said, "We can cancel," like he'd said about a dozen times in the months since he'd first brought up the idea. "No big deal. I can take you to III Forks, get that porterhouse the size of my head."

Jensen squinted at him, sinking his shoulders below the line of the steaming water. "No steak could ever be as big as your gigantic head," he said, matter-of-fact, and Jared flicked the surface of the bath so water sprayed in his face. Jensen scrunched his nose, wiped his hand over his face, dragged over his beard. Just made it wetter. "I'm good."

His hair's a little longer now than usual, his beard neat but still a full beard. Lines at the corners of his eyes. Stomach a little soft as it always has been—maybe a little softer, now. Still, thirty-eight's been treating him well. Last night Jared hummed, touched the freckles on his shoulders under the line of the hot water. "Excited?"

Jensen looked at him, and didn't answer that question, but they've known each other for a long time and Jared smiled at him, dipped down and took a kiss. Jensen touched a wet thumb to where he must've been dimpling and said, soft, uncertain-sounding for the first time in a long time: "Think I should shave?"

"No," Jared said, and brushed his lips over the tender prickle of his cheek. "No, you stay exactly as you are."

From the living room the music turns to Alice in Chains and Jared steps out from the kitchen onto the back patio, flicks the grill on to heat. He's not the grillmaster Jensen is but he can manage a burger. The pool's nice, a little cold still with summer not fully set in, and he sits down on the edge with his beer and his legs stretched out along the long top step, watching through the den windows. Real good thing they have such a tall fence. The music's just barely audible through the glass, more a muffled hint of bass than anything else, but he can see fine. Well enough to watch Will laugh at something, and stand up. Jensen's harder to see, spread out flat like he is, but he sees Marcus get up, walk over. Make a beckoning motion with two fingers, and then Jensen struggles upright, onto all fours, and Marcus comes close enough that Jensen—ah, okay. Jared takes a deep breath, presses a palm to his crotch where his dick's been lurching from half-hard to straining all afternoon. Jensen dips his head, and Jared can't see but he can imagine. That soft, soft suckle, right there at the crown where everything's so sensitive, wetting down before the real action. Marcus's hand settles on Jensen's shoulder, so dark against where he's practically translucent—his farmer tan is super bad this year—and Jared pulls his phone out of his pocket, thumbs open the app, turns on the sound.

Tinny, echoing. Terrible mic. "Yeah, you're doing good, huh," Marcus is saying. Porno soundtrack. "God, yeah, that's good."

Jensen's trained Jared out of this kind of crap. _Don't take this the wrong way, _he'd said, maybe the fifth time they hooked up, _but you sound like a pre-recording of a dude fucking. _Marcus isn't getting any commentary—and, to be fair, Jensen's mouth is full.

Another crackly voice, Will: "Great, isn't he? Can't decide if I want to finish in his mouth or his pussy."

Jared's breath shudders out. "Good either way, huh?" Eric says, and Jensen—there's a muffled sound, maybe a moan, and jesus, he didn't know, really, Jared didn't know how much this would work for him.

Kick through the cool water, letting the waves lap up against his calves, wetting the very bottom edge of his shorts. He's overheated, needs the distraction. They had a couple of threesomes, when they were younger. Boys they met at a club—they really were younger, and dumber. Jared was too drunk for the first one to remember much, but the second, him fucking Jensen and Jensen fucking that cute Hispanic kid, god, that was—good. Then, later, there was one time when he'd woken up out of his coma after a four day stretch of shifts and gone to visit Jensen working in the back of the brewery, and after a pleasant little while watching him shift kegs and check pH levels and be just delightfully, solidly competent, they got to flirting and fucking around with each other, because no one else was around, and when they were talking about fantasies Jensen said, out of nowhere, _always thought a gangbang would be hot_, and Jared had about swallowed his tongue he was so surprised. Introvert Jensen, who doesn't even want to hang out with their friends most of the time. He didn't get it, really, but when they were fooling around later and laughing at bad porn, one clip slipped into another and then there was a little femme getting passed around between a room full of dudes and Jensen's face was—and Jensen didn't share anything in common with that kid, but Jared could see it, then. The appeal.

Through the window, Marcus gets his free hand on Jensen's head, pushes down, and Jensen's shoulders bunch but he goes with it, doesn't pull away. Jared bites his lip, rubs the bulge under his zip. Bossy, Jensen is, and totally in control about, oh, a hundred and ten percent of the time. With Jared, too, demanding this, wanting that. Not so much, right now. He tugs at Marcus's hip, his angle tilting, and Marcus's head tips back on his shoulders and he groans loud enough that the mic feed fuzzes, and Eric laughs again, that goofy horsey laugh, and says, "Okay, I'm taking his ass, that's it," and through the window Jared sees him climb right over the back of the couch and land behind Jensen, who just drags up his knees and tips up his ass and Eric slides right in, and Will appears in the kitchen doorway somehow and says, "Hey, man, you don't want to come in? Feel like we're kicking you out of your own party."

Jared drags his heels back, his knees up, unaccountably embarrassed. Like he hasn't been watching them all fuck, like his hard-on could be a surprise. "Jensen's party," he says, and Will rolls his eyes. "What, it is."

"You guys have been together longer than some countries have existed," Will says. "It's a joint party."

He's still hard, standing there in the doorway with his dick curving over his balls, nonchalant. "I was going to cook," Jared says, and as he does there's another yelp, and his attention snaps to his phone and then to the window, and Eric's got Jensen tugged up on his knees, holding him around the waist and jolting up into him, hard fast snaps of his hips that are shaking the bed, squeaking the springs.

Will walks over, sets one long foot on Jared's arm and pushes, just enough to sway him and catch his attention. He ducks down low, putting his face in Jared's space. "Hey _Jay_-red," he says, "come on and hang out, pretty please, cherries on top, cummies on the side," and Jared groans, says, "How did I ever suck your dick," grabs his jaw and shoves it away. Baby-smooth, clean-shaven just like Jared asked them all to do, and when he holds out a hand to help Jared up the nails are trimmed and clean, too. Proof that Will's not actually as much of a dumbass as he pretends to be.

He follows Will's skinny ass into his own den. "Okay, party's back," Will says, and Marcus says, "You mean the dumbass is," but he slugs Jared's shoulder, tosses Will a beer from the six pack, and Eric's slowed way down, his hand cupping Jensen's stomach, his head ducked. "He's trying not to shoot," Marcus says, like it's a big secret, and Eric says, breathless, "Fuck off," but Jensen kind of smiles, shaky.

Jared gives up. He leads with two fingers, there at the shiny-wet hollow of Jensen's throat where that sun-spatter of freckles have never faded, and Jensen's eyes slide open. His eyelashes are wet, his eyebrows, his beard. God, he's gorgeous. "Yeah?" Jared says, and Jensen nods, his chest heaving in a deep breath. "Water? Beer?"

"Water," Jensen says, and it's hoarse, from moaning or from use, Jared doesn't know. His reusable's sitting on the coffee table, still cold, and he brings it over just in time for Eric to pull out, shaking his head. Jensen sips, biting his lip between each swallow (and climbing off the pull-out Eric says, "That fucking ass, I don't know, man, it's like—"), and Jared takes the bottle away, brushes Jensen's cheek along the prickle. Gets a smile, less shaky, and Jensen slowly tips backward, stretches out, his dick laying heavy curved over his hip. "Been trying not to come," he says, quiet, just for Jared.

Jared laughs, nudges his thigh. "Welcome to my world," he says, and watches Jensen draw his knees up. Glossy skin, lube dripped all over, his ass and thighs and hips slick, sticky, gleaming, and it takes Will knocking into Jared's shoulder to break his concentration.

"How's that, Brewmaster, comfy?" Will says, and Jensen rolls his eyes, but nods, and Will climbs right onto the bed past Jared, gets down with his knees either side of Jensen's head, says, "Suck that, then," bald and crass like Will always is, and—and Jensen holds his hips, lifts up, slurps the wet length of it in, and Jared sees the muscle in Will's thighs flinch, _knows_ how good that is, but Will only braces on the couch-back and fucks in, careful. Will's long, though, and Jensen gags for a second, that wet _glork_ that Jared hates as much as it turns him on, but fuck if Jensen doesn't just muscle through it, not letting go of Will's hips for a second, and Jared, oh, god, how is he going to hold on.

He gets up, his legs wobbly. Marcus drains the last of his beer, leaves the empty on the mantle, comes over, spreads Jensen's legs. "Let me in, baby," he says, low as a blues singer, and ducks down, gets his face between Jensen's thighs. Kisses his dick, his balls, before he gathers them all up on one hand, out of the way as he licks Jensen out. He'd be so slick, soft and open. Jensen's stomach clenches, a choked sound coming from somewhere behind Will's dick.

"That's so fuckin' hot," Eric says, almost pained, and Jared glances over, finds him with his wrist held to his forehead like he's sick, or something. "Jesus. I don't know how you live with this every day."

Jared shakes his head. It's a mystery.

He makes the burgers, and lets his phone keep playing, his battery draining away. When Jensen finally does come it's on Marcus's dick, and Jared's in the kitchen trying to decide whether he wants to bother toasting the potato buns when he hears the moan, real, loud, unrestrained and throaty, and Will says, "_Fuck_ yeah, that's it, you got it—" and on the phone feed, a stuttery half-second behind, Jared can hear Marcus breathing heavy and then he says, "Keep on?" and there's silence before Jensen says, all rasp, "Yeah, come on, yeah, keep going, keep—" and Jared has to go out into the front room where it's harder to hear and throb, ache, try not to come in his shorts like a friggin' teenager.

Marcus finishes inside, like Jensen wanted him to. Jared has a fresh six-pack waiting out on the deck, and he hands over a new can—the brewery's summer shandy, good for a day like today—and watches Marcus drain half of it on the first pull. He's wiped off a little, has his shorts on. Somehow has lost the socks. "Your boy's a goddamn trooper," he says, when he finishes gulping.

"He is definitely that," Jared says. On his phone, Jensen's going down on Will again, on his knees this time with Will leaned against the wall, and Eric's crouched next to him with his fingers in Jensen's ass, kissing his shoulder. "Eric still trying not to cream himself?"

"Shit, like he's the only one," Marcus says. "I'd try to get it up again if I thought I still had the welcome."

Jared shrugs, busies himself with putting cheese slices on the burgers. "Up to him," he says.

"Yeah, I know it is." It's dry, like Marcus can be, and Jared feels his cheeks go hot. Hotter. He could blame the grill. "You got some fuckin' platinum shit here, man. Unbreakable adamantium kind of shit."

Jared closes the grill lid, finds himself grinning. "Knew you saw X-Men. And you were calling us nerds."

"Hey, Hugh Jackman's hot," Marcus says, unruffled, and he's right, and he's right about the other thing, too. Eleven years. Sometimes it's bliss and sometimes it's annoying and sometimes it's nothing, sometimes it's just in the background because that's how life is, when even daily miracles like birdsong and sunrises and the Eiffel Tower become mundane, but sometimes, some days, it's like he sees it all for the first time again. Can't believe his own luck.

When Will comes out onto the deck, naked because of course he is, Marcus throws a towel at his head and then Jared offers him a plate. "I think I got brain-drain," Will says, dropping into a chair, "straight out of my balls."

"You never had a brain to start with," Jared says, and Marcus hoots. "Hey, you guys got this, right?" They both wave him off, and he goes into the kitchen, grabs Jensen's water bottle with all the beer stickers all over it, ice cold. In the den Eric's opted to fuck him, slow, Jensen spread out on his belly on the rug, his hands curled up in fists on either side of his head. Jared hangs back. Eric's big, broad, that goofy shock of red hair pushed back from his forehead with sweat, and he's got one hand on Jensen's hip, blanketing his back, and—they look good together, Jared can admit that, even if he just wants Eric to come already.

"Come on," Jensen breathes, like he heard the thought. Eric groans, pulls back, rears up on his knees and gets Jensen's hips in both hands and slams in, head tipped back, using Jensen's body to brace. Rough, fast, and Jensen's face is nothing but soft, slack, little jolty sounds leaving him every time Eric hilts himself, absolutely no protest in every line of him. When Eric finally comes he lets out a string of _fucks_ and jerks like a caught fish, spasming against Jensen's ass. He pulls out with his dick smeared white, still hard, breathing like at the end of a ten mile run on the treadmill.

"Burgers are out on the deck," Jared says, and Eric looks at him like he doesn't know what language is anymore. "Beers too. Take a swim if you want, but don't pee in the pool, okay, we just got it shocked."

Eric stares, then lets out his hee-haw laugh again. "Priorities, dude," he says, but he staggers up, snags his shorts, weaves down the hall. The door opens and Will lets out a little distant cheer, and then the door closes, and it's quiet but for the music. Mudhoney. Jared turns it way down, turns off the baseball game, drops the blinds on the windows so they can't see the guys anymore, and only then turns around.

Jensen's still just laying there, prone. Breathing, slow. Jared comes closer, kneels down. Settles one hand on the high pretty curve of his ass and doesn't get even a flinch. "So," Jared says. "How was that?"

A little laugh, white teeth appearing. His eyes stay closed. "Well, my asshole's sore," he says, and Jared leans over, kisses his temple, his beardy cheek, and tips down awkward to catch his mouth, soft, once. Jensen hums, licks his lips. Says, quiet, "I've been waiting for that," and so of course Jared has to kiss him again, lingering a little this time.

"I think they're going to drink all of your beer," Jared says, when he pulls back.

"Earned it," Jensen responds, finally shifting, but only enough to curl one arm under his head. Lifts him up enough that he can look at Jared over his shoulder, tired and satisfied. "You good?"

Jared raises his eyebrows. "Pretty sure that's my question, man," he says, and squeezes Jensen's asscheek. And—well, he actually is a medical professional, and sore could just be sore, or it could be—he shifts around, pulls Jensen's ass open as careful as he can, but everything's just dark pink, used, open. Wet, and glossy, and when he presses a gentle thumb against the rim he gets a brief spill of white, creamy-slick all over his hand, and Jensen's thighs close, squirmy. "Sorry," he says, cheeks burning, and Jensen says, up above, "Jay," and it's so deep and throaty it almost doesn't sound like his name. He looks up and Jensen's eyes are heavy, dark, his lips bitten between his teeth.

A beat, while the guys laugh about something outside. Someone jumps into the pool, a big splash. Jared runs his thumb over his fingers, lube and jizz all wet and mixed, and spreads his hand over Jensen's ass, smears in the mess already there. "That hurt?" he says, dick throbbing, and Jensen turns over, shakes his head, holds out his hand, and Jared takes it automatically.

His dick's not hard, but it's not totally soft, either, his belly shining from where he came earlier. Jared slips his fingers through the trimmed neatness of his pubes, cups his dick warm against his skin. "You're thinking," Jensen says, raspy. "How I'm probably sore, and tired, and need another bath. And you wanna take care of me, huh. And you don't want to insist, because you don't want to be an asshole. And you'd just put me to bed, I wouldn't even have to ask."

His legs spread, and Jared curls his fingers down, brushes the soft familiar weight of his balls. "You know, I can just go," he says, and watches Jensen smile. "You can have the whole conversation on your own, that's fine."

"Eleven years is a long time," Jensen says, and it should be ribbing but it's not. Another huge splash from outside—cannonball—but Jensen's eyes only flicker briefly before they come back to his, and dip down to his chest, to his dick in his shorts. "You watched?"

Jared nods, and when Jensen tugs on his t-shirt he leans closer, leaned over him, inches away. Jensen says, quiet, "You know, I'm not done," and Jared's dick lurches in his shorts. "A gangbang's got to have a least four guys."

"Oh, is that a rule?" Jared says. His stomach shudders, he's so turned on, and Jensen grips his shirt, says, "Just fuck me, already, you dick," and Jared ducks down and kisses him, honest that time, licking in, tasting how he's foreign and just the same, all at once.

Jensen unzips him, unbuttons, his fingers coordinated enough to manage it, and gets him in that solid demanding grip that always tugs Jared along by the hindbrain. He hitches up his legs and Jared thinks _lube _for a stupid second but Jensen's slick, ready, more ready than he's ever been, and he's sore and used and he hitches his thighs up but Jared has to help, and he sinks in slow, slow, and watches Jensen's face go to that place, all his attention focused inside. God, he's wet, and the ride's smooth, busted open. "Talk to me," Jared says, "come on, tell me what it was like," and Jensen groans, says, "Did you know Marcus doesn't kiss?" and Jared laughs, startled, fucks in, and Jensen wraps his arms around Jared's neck and moans for him, moans like he did when he came, before. Like this is what he's been waiting for, all afternoon. Jesus, does Jared love him.

He doesn't come again, doesn't even get really hard. Jared keeps his face tucked down close, keeps Jensen's hips tilted into his, and even tired Jensen holds his legs up, crossed over Jared's back, heels slipping over Jared's sweat-damp t-shirt. The sounds Jensen's making, punched-out soft in Jared's ear—the scrape of his beard, their cheeks pushed together—his mouth, behind Jared's ear—his hand in Jared's hair, his body all welcome, soft, nothing about him that's not his own, like nothing this whole day has touched him, has even come close, because nothing does unless he lets it—but he's letting Jared in, because he always has. When Jared finishes he buries his face in Jensen's neck, breathes his smell, and Jensen pulls him in closer, legs tight around Jared's waist while he pulses, spilling, nuts clutching up in relief after holding on all day. His whole body shudders, weak, but it doesn't matter because Jensen's there, catching him.

There's still splashing outside; one of the guys goes in and out of the kitchen, getting more beer. Jensen combs through Jared's hair, long scratching pulls that bring cool air to the back of his neck. Time stops until, after a while, Jensen says, "I think I'm going to stick to the rug."

"That's okay," Jared says, muffled against Jensen's skin. "I never liked this rug anyway."

Jensen's legs have fallen open, letting him go, and Jared takes a deep breath before he basically does a push-up, lifting off of Jensen's sticky warmth, pulling out. A gush follows, below, and Jensen's eyelashes flicker but he keeps watching Jared's face. Jared settles onto his knees between Jensen's legs, rubs his thighs. "Wanna get up?" he says.

"No," Jensen says, but he sighs and holds out his hands, and so they lever him up off the floor. His legs shake, like Jared knew they would, and he holds Jensen around the waist while he gets his balance back again. Good excuse. Jensen grimaces, but he leans into it, his forehead tipped in against Jared's jaw. He sighs, again. "There is so much goo on me."

Jared's startled into a laugh. "We'll get you into the shower," he promises, but even if that sounds awesome he just stands there without moving, looking at the slatted summer light on Jensen's bare freckley shoulders. Reeks like sex in here, and they're going to have to clean jizz off so many surfaces, and he can't even imagine what kind of awkward it's going to be when he runs into one of the guys at the gym, some later day when this is just the craziest weekend they've ever had—but he's feeling all soppy on the inside, soft, his heart a twist.

He kisses Jensen's sweaty hair. "You know," he says. "Marcus said we're like adamantium."

A little scoff, but Jensen's arm goes around his waist, scruff of his beard against Jared's throat. "You are such a nerd," he says, but Jared can hear him smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> [posted here on my tumblr if you'd like to reblog](https://zmediaoutlet.tumblr.com/post/186655343959/omg-z-about-jensen-and-that-gangbang-my-brain)


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